


DIE ALONE

by mydogwatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock goes off on his own.  That never ends well.  We know that.  Why doesn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	DIE ALONE

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Умереть в одиночестве](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878919) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> If someone missed it before: Everyday for 30 days I put my Ipod on shuffle and whatever song came up served as inspiration for a story. So there are 30 stories and I am planning to post one a day. Basically all Johnlock, of course. Hope you like.

I never thought that I could love  
anyone but myself.  
Now I know I can’t love anyone  
but you.  
You make me think that maybe  
I won’t die alone.  
-Ingrid Michaelson

There was a rather surprising amount of blood.

That was the first thought in my in mind when I regained consciousness. It was several more moments before I managed to pull up a memory of exactly what had happened.

That violence had broken out was not what I had expected. It was only an insurance fraud crime, boring in the extreme, but lacking anything else to occupy myself, I had taken the case. It was marginally better than lying on the sofa considering shooting holes in the wall, if only because the gunplay would upset John.

Over breakfast, John had looked hopeful when he’d said, “Slow day at the surgery. I could call off and come with you.”

It was briefly tempting, but then I just shook my head. “Don’t bother. No sense in both of us being bored beyond belief. Save the day off for something worth your time.”

John looked disappointed, but only picked up his packed lunch [his latest ridiculous money-saving ritual. What was it about the words Trust Fund did he not understand?], dropped a kiss onto the top of my head, and walked to the door. “See you later, then.”

Inexplicably, because I was still getting accustomed to this new way of life, I felt the need to offer something to wipe the hint of disappointment from John’s face. “Dinner? Angelo’s?”

He flicked a smile as he opened the door. “Angelo’s,” he agreed.

 

Insurance fraud.  
What a stupid reason to bleed to death on the floor of a rundown office block in a distant London suburb.

It was no doubt the lack of blood getting to my brain that was making my thought process so sluggish. I finally lifted one hand from where it was trying, with no great success, to staunch the flow of blood from my thigh and scrabbled for my phone.

My thumb pressed the 1.

It rang twice before John answered. “Case wrapped up already?” he said cheerfully. “That’s fast, even for you.”

It was startling to realise that for a moment I could not speak, could not make any sound other than a sort of harsh gasp.

“Sherlock?” John’s tone changed immediately. He was worried, which I felt badly about.

“J…John,” I finally managed to get out.

“All right,” John said crisply, his military doctor persona taking over. “Where are you? What’s happened?”

“Knife. Cut. Blood.” My vaunted verbal skills seemed to have fled completely.

“Where are you? Please tell me where you are, Sherlock.”

“F—Fielding Towers, Wimbledon.” A wave of unpleasant dizziness washed over me. “Oh, John,” I mumbled.

“Stay with me, Sherlock.”

I could hear sounds from far away and managed to deduce what was happening. John was yelling for Sarah; she was calling 999, help was being summoned. As I half-listened to John trying to save my life, I was also watching blood puddle on the floor. It wasn’t actually as interesting as might have been expected. “John?” I whispered hollowly.

“I’m here, Sherlock, you just hang on. Help is coming.”

“I don’t think it will get here in time.” Saying that to him made me sad.

“It will. It will.” John’s determined voice was always so very determined. But underneath that, because I know him so well, I could hear the fear.  
I wanted to help. “John, it’s all right. You’re here. I’m not alone.”

John sucked in air desperately, sounding as if he were the one dying instead of me. “Sherlock, keep breathing, keep trying. Please, just for me.”

It was so cold in the room. The only warm thing in the world was John’s voice. “Always thought I would die alone. This is much better.”

Something like a sob came across the line.

“Oh, John, it’s really fine. Just keep talking to me, please. Your voice is warm.” I could feel the phone slipping from my bloody fingers. It landed on the floor by my head. I could still hear John’s voice. It was lovely.

“Sherlock, I love you. Please try to hold on. We’re supposed to have dinner at Angelo’s, remember? We’re supposed to go to Paris next week.” His voice cracked. “We’re supposed to have the rest of our lives together.”

I felt myself smile. I’d had John for the rest of my life and that was good.

“Don’t die, please, Sherlock.”

For just a moment, I thought I could hear the sound of a siren getting close. My eyes wanted to shut, but John was still talking to me, asking me to live, and I would try, of course. But I wasn’t alone and that was the most important thing. The warm voice almost drowned out the thundering of footsteps in the corridor.

Distantly, I heard another voice. “We’ve got him,” someone said.

Someone else was bent over my leg. “You’re going to be okay,” that person said.  
I let the blackness slip over me now that it was safe to do so. The last thing I heard was John’s voice.

“Thank you, Sherlock,” he said.

fini


End file.
